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Eric Fischl, A Woman Possessed, 1981
oil on canvas, 68 x 96 inches (172.7 x 243.8 cm)
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"THE WORK THAT I STARTED IN THE LATE '70S, EARLY '80S, REALLY LAID THE FOUNDATION FOR THE WORK THAT I HAVE DONE FOR THE LAST 40-SOME ODD YEARS IN THAT IT REVEALED TO ME BOTH THE NATURE AND THE PARAMETER OF MY THEMES."
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A glimpse into a moment both shocking and intimate, Eric Fischl’s A Woman Possessed is an early painting by the artist and one of the few considered to be autobiographical. Based on his memories of returning home from school to find his mother unconscious, a symptom of her alcoholism, a young Fischl sees his fears – the exposure of his mother’s condition to the public – on the cusp of actualization. He reaches down to pull her toward him, his books piled neatly while an empty whiskey tumbler rolls, but his efforts are hindered by menacing dogs, each of the breeds signifying their role within the scene: the Golden Retriever, Bernese, and Collie (Lassie famously coming to Timmy’s rescue) are contrasted by the two growling Dobermans resembling the mythological Cerberus. Allegorically pulling her away from the gates of hell, the boy’s attempt to bring her inside is not only to protect her affliction from becoming public, but also from the affliction itself.
The suburban driveway, reflection of the house and sliver of bright afternoon sky in the car’s window subtly offer context to a tightly packed composition. Commonly a family car, the station wagon recedes into the garage – the friendly Collie perched in the open trunk – painted with a simplicity and smooth linear strokes akin to car design in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Though dated to Fischl’s childhood, the car resembles models released contemporaneous to when the work was painted, conflating past and present in a way that suggests the lasting impact of childhood trauma. Surrounded by both angels and demons, Fischl reminds us that “America is not Disneyland. Things smell, people have edges, people get hurt,” and in doing so connects personal trauma to collective, universal hardship.
Mindful of his contemporaries, Fischl recalls his position in the early 1980s as a figurative painter, stating, “I was taking on a lot personally to try to reassert meaningfulness to non-cynical, and in fact, sincere emotional experiences in figurative painting. And also trying to find a way of taking the experience of a personal life into something that achieved an almost archetypal scale.” Achieving that universality, Fischl’s scene sends sophisticated psychological shocks, the dark shadows and broad strokes of fur and metal drawing us into a dynamic collision of characters and emotions.
A rich vein of symbolism can be traced through Fischl’s work, which now, nearly forty years later, connect to many of the same themes articulated in this seminal painting.
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“I was taking on a lot personally to try to reassert meaningfulness to non-cynical, and in fact, sincere emotional experiences in figurative painting. And also trying to find a way of taking the experience of a personal life into something that achieved an almost archetypal scale.”
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About Eric Fischl
Eric Fischl was born in New York in 1948. He graduated from the California Institute of Arts in Valencia, in 1972, and was a teacher between 1974 and 1978 at the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design in Halifax. Fischl works in multiple media such as painting, sculpture and prints, and is mostly known for his large scale, naturalistic images of middle-class American life. His suburban upbringing provided him with a backdrop of alcoholism and a culture obsessed with image over content. Subsequently, his early work became focused on provocative yet truthful issues deemed repugnant by polite society. The powerful underlying sexuality in his works, often portray intimate moments that the viewer is helplessly made privy of and address the dark and disturbing undercurrents of mainstream American life. Fischl’s large human-scale figures only emphasize the voyeuristic feeling of his images, and imbue them with a psychological, almost dream-like intensity. His earlier paintings are highly reminiscent of the Photorealism works of the 1960s, and during the 1980s his style expanded to fragmented images split into separate panels, which he used for paintings and etchings.
Photo: Ralph Gibson
Eric Fischl, 'A Woman Possessed,' 1981
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